


Nhandu

by ptyx



Series: Nhandu / Muiraquitã [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Drama, First Time, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-15
Updated: 2005-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptyx/pseuds/ptyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is kidnapped. Guess who is taking care of him? (Post-HBP)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I - Harrymachy - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Teka Lynn](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Teka+Lynn).



> Thanks to my betas Kalena, Spinningcompass, Elanor Isolda and Nicolle. Thanks to Morgan D. for her advice.
> 
> Written in reply to a challenge by Reddwarfer.

**Nhandu ******

 ** ** **Part I - Harrymachy******

 ** ** **Chapter 1******

Harry opened his eyes. Everything was dark. Where was he? Inside his cupboard at the Dursleys'? No, that had been many years ago. What was the last thing he could remember?

He recalled Bill and Fleur's wedding; all his friends gathered, having fun... He also remembered he had decided to go alone to Godric's Hollow; he didn't want Ron and Hermione to run unnecessary risks.

Yes, he had gone to Godric's Hollow. Now he could remember. When he had arrived in the cottage that had belonged to his parents, he had been attacked... He hadn't been able to see his attackers.

Now he was inside a kind of trunk, tied up and gagged; not the most comfortable of circumstances. Maybe he should pretend he was back in his cupboard at the Dursleys'; it wasn't very different, and he was used to the feeling. Maybe he should try to sleep.

But suddenly there was a noise, and the trunk was opened.

Harry found himself face to face with one of the wizards he most hated in the world.

Severus Snape.

The same greasy hair and hooked nose. The same cold, empty eyes that looked like dark tunnels.

Snape levitated him out of the trunk and into an armchair. Harry struggled to get rid of the ropes and the gag.

"Calm down, Potter. Those ropes are like Devil's Snare: the more you struggle, the more they bind you."

Harry looked around. They were in a large bedroom in a style Harry couldn't identify. Besides the comfortable leather armchair where Snape had placed him, there was a bed, a wardrobe and a dressing table, all in solid, dark wood. There was a window, but its curtains were shut. The only light came from a few lamps on the walls.

Snape moved nearer, blocking Harry's view. "If you promise to behave, I shall remove your gag. Then we can talk like two civilized wizards," said Snape, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Will you behave?"

Harry almost burst with rage, but ended up nodding.

Snape removed the gag with his own hands. Weird. Harry had expected Snape to use his wand, keeping his distance. But Snape wasn't even holding a wand.

"You bastard..."

"Tsk, tsk, Potter. If this is your idea of good behaviour, I shall have to put the gag back on."

Harry wanted to punch him, but his arms were tied. "How could Dumbledore be so blind as to trust you? You are a..."

Snape held Harry's head and gagged him again. "Since you insist on making a spectacle of your idiocy, I have no alternative. Moreover, I have bad news for you: you will have to stay here for a long time. The sooner you learn to behave, the better."

Snape pivoted on his heel, making his robes flap around, and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Harry promised himself he wouldn't despair. He wouldn't give Snape the pleasure of seeing him panic. He had to think. Why had they brought him here? It must have been on Voldemort's orders. But then why hadn't Voldemort shown up yet, and why had Snape told Harry he would have to stay here for a long time? How long was a long time? Two hours? Two days? Two months?

Oh, God.

The ropes bound him tighter and tighter, because he couldn't stay put.

~*~

Snape came back a few minutes later, levitating a tray. As soon as he entered the bedroom, he turned the dressing table into a dining table and landed the tray on it. He turned a stool into a chair and then flicked his wand towards Harry. " _Evanesco!_ "

The ropes and gag disappeared, and Harry was free. He was also too tired and bewildered to fight Snape.

"I have brought you tea," said Snape, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Harry saw a teapot, a jar with a green paste, another jar with a red jam, toast, rolls and yellow cakes on the tray. "I'm not hungry. I want to know why I'm here."

"I cannot give you this information. If I were you, I would eat. Dinner shall be served late, in about three hours. When you finish your tea, you can take a bath. Your personal bathroom is behind you. You shall find towels and everything you might need there. If you need anything that is not there, let me know and I shall see what I can do."

With that, Snape left the bedroom again.

Harry roamed the bedroom quickly, searching for an exit, an escape. He tried to force the door, but failed. He tried to do wandless magic, shouting _Alohomora_ and all the spells he knew, but nothing worked. He ran to the window, pulled the curtains and was pleased to find he could look outside.

Merlin's beard. They were in a totally unknown place, in a country estate in the middle of a forest. The house was big and painted white. He was on the first floor. The trees were a luscious green, and looked tropical, from what he had seen in magazines and on television. There were blossoming trees, covered with flowers of many colours: lilac, white, carmine, and yellow. The setting sun was intense, tainting the twilight clouds rose and orange. The earth was reddish brown.

There were bars on the window, however. Just like in his old bedroom in the Dursleys'.

He couldn't find an exit. In the elegant bathroom, all in green marble, there was only a fanlight.

Harry used the toilet, then washed his hands and face and stared at the mirror over the sink. Thank Merlin; it was a plain Muggle mirror. Harry's face was pale and gaunt. No wonder. He went back to his bedroom, disheartened. His stomach grumbled; as he didn't have anything to do, he helped himself to a cup of tea and grabbed a slice of toast.

He sniffed the green paste before spreading it on his toast and taking a bite of it. Delicious.

~*~

Having finished his tea, Harry opened the wardrobe and found a few robes and nightshirts hung inside. There were also some socks, boxers and briefs in the drawers. All of the clothes were Harry's size, and apparently new.

Harry picked a dark red robe and black boxers and went to take a bath. He shut the bathroom door. He wished he could lock it, because he didn't trust the greasy bat, but there weren't any bolts or latches. Anyway, bolts or latches wouldn't stop Snape: he had a wand, and Harry did not. If Snape wanted to do anything improper to him, all Harry could do was to defend himself with hands and legs - and he would certainly do his best.

Harry prepared a bath with a cinnamon-scented liquid soap and entered the warm water. He tried to relax, but failed. He knew the fact he was being well treated didn't mean he was going to be spared. After all, Voldemort wanted to kill him.

There was only one way to get out of here: he would have to catch Snape unprepared and steal his wand. He had to develop a plan, and quickly. He didn't have the faintest idea of what they were planning to do with him, and when.

His first idea was to wait behind the bedroom door with something heavy and knock Snape over the head with it as soon as he entered.

Harry got out of the bath, dried himself, dressed and emptied a small drawer. Its wood was very solid. Hitting Snape's head with it would certainly make him see stars.

~*~

Harry waited for more than twenty minutes before the door opened. He sneaked up from behind it and... blam!

When it touched Snape's head, the drawer pulverised itself. Dust spread everywhere, including the plates on the tray Snape was carrying in his hand.

The enraged expression that flashed across Snape's face made Harry pale immediately. Snape still showed enough control to set the tray on the table before throwing Harry onto the bed and casting _Incarcerous_ to bind him and.

Snape loomed over Harry, fists clenched. "Stupid brat. Did you think I would trust you? Grow up!"

 _He's going to hex me or kill me,_ Harry thought. _I'll try to distract him._ "How did you do that?" Harry was really curious. After all, as headstrong as Snape could be, pulverising a solid wooden drawer wasn't an easy thing to do.

"How delusional you are, if you take me for one of those villains who gloat at their victims and spill the beans..."

"Ha!" Harry couldn't help sneering. "Like Voldemort, you mean?"

"Don't say his name."

"Yeah, right. If you don't want to tell me, don't."

"Why would I tell you, if you have just proven how untrustworthy you are?"

With a certain relief, Harry saw Snape unclench his fists and walk away towards the table. "You have ruined your dinner. Don't think I'm going to bring you a replacement."

"I don't want to eat. I'll go on a hunger strike until you release me."

Harry realised he had said the wrong words when Snape turned around and rushed towards him, eyes glowing in rage. "Very smart." Snape grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed them fiercely. "Is that how you plan to finish the Dark Lord? Become weaker, so that he can destroy you more easily?"

Harry wanted to beat him or to cry, because he was right. "Which are side you on, Snape?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"There are only two possibilities. Either you're on Voldemort's side, or you have your own agenda. Worse than his, I'm sure."

Snape's lips curled in a sinister smirk. "You have no idea, brat."

Snape left the room, taking the tray with him and leaving Harry tied up on the bed.

Harry thought about screaming, but he wouldn't humiliate himself. He tried to calm down. He was tied up, but he could try to sleep. After all, he was very, very tired.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next morning when Harry woke up, the ropes had disappeared, there was a sheet and a blanket over him, and his glasses were neatly folded on the bedside table.

He got up, went to the bathroom, and when he returned to the bedroom there was a tray with a complete breakfast, including scrambled eggs. Harry was starving and devoured everything greedily.

After finishing his breakfast, he went to look out of the window. The sun was high in the east, and the birds flitted around the trees cheerfully. Ah, if he could fly on his broom, or at least walk beneath the trees!

But he was a caged bird, and didn't have the faintest idea what would happen to him.

~*~

At midday, lunch appeared on the table, replacing the empty breakfast tray. Harry felt disappointed; he had been bored all morning and had been looking forward to the moment when Snape would arrive. He had prepared himself to nag and scold Snape with all his might, and now the git hadn't shown up.

Lunch was fish with caper sauce, rice, roast potatoes and a lettuce, cucumber and tomato salad. Not bad at all.

In the middle of the afternoon, however, Harry couldn't stand his loneliness and boredom any longer, and started to punch the bedroom door.

Snape appeared in less than a minute.

When Harry saw him, he let himself fall onto bed, subdued. Snape stared at him in silence, looking concerned.

"I want to get out of here," Harry whimpered. "I have nothing to do."

Snape shut the bedroom door carefully and sat in the armchair. "There are many things that you can do. But you will have to behave yourself."

"Like what, for example?"

"You can prepare yourself to face the Dark Lord."

Harry couldn't believe it. What game was Snape playing? "I'm imprisoned here. I can't do anything."

"The first step you have to take is to learn Occlumency, and for that you just need to control your mind."

Harry burst out in hysterical laughter. "We've been there before. It didn't work."

Snape let out a deep sigh, stood up and walked to the door. "Think about it."

~*~

Harry took a long time to fall asleep that night, and the next morning he didn't have any desire or strength to leave the bed.

Breakfast was already on the table when he awoke and remained there until it was magically replaced by the lunch tray. _It must be midday. And so what,_ Harry thought. _Better stay in bed._ He was feeling a little sick.

The door opened, and Snape came in. "What is it, Potter? Why didn't you have breakfast?"

"I didn't feel like eating," Harry answered, turning his back to Snape.

Snape grabbed him by his arm and turned him around by force. "You shall respect me, boy!"

"What is it, Snape? What do you want? Why are you keeping me here all this time? Why hasn't Voldemort come and killed me yet?"

"Is that what you want? To die?"

Harry shrugged. "It's better than being here with you."

A flame of rage erupted in Snape's eyes. Ah, this made Harry feel better. Only by irritating Snape did he feel alive.

"I am not here because of your pleasant personality either, Potter," said Snape between clenched teeth.

"Great. Then let me leave and we'll both be happy."

"Unfortunately, I can't do that. And you are leaving me with very few alternatives."

"Really? What're you going to do?"

"If you don't eat, I shall punish you."

Harry got up; he was so furious that his rage created a cyclone, and things started to fly across the room. He was doing uncontrollable wandless magic.

Snape cast a _Petrificus Totalus_ on him. Paralysed, Harry saw Snape cast a _Reparo_ on the bedroom and then circle him once, twice, three times before extinguishing the spell.

Harry sat on the bed, drained. "What do you want from me, anyway?"

"For now, I just want you to calm down and eat."

Harry snorted, but walked to the table, sat in a chair and started to eat. Snape sat in the armchair and watched him.

"What's this yellow thing?" Harry asked.

"Polenta."

It was tasty, and Harry was hungry. "Who cooks our meals, by the way? Is it you?"

"No. They are restaurant meals."

"Takeaway or delivery?"

"Delivery."

The dessert was a delicious coconut flan with prune sauce.

"What's this dessert?"

"They call it 'manjar branco'," Snape replied.

"And what does it mean?"

"Literally, it means 'white delicacy'. I would translate it as 'white pudding', or 'white custard'."

"What language do _they_ speak?"

Snape made an impatient gesture. "You are asking too many questions. Just finish your dessert."

"Have you already eaten?" Harry asked Snape.

"No. I am waiting for you to finish."

"I'm finished. You can go."

" _I_ decide when and whether to go."

Harry let out a tired sigh. "So, what do you want me to do now?"

"I want you to practice Occlumency."

"Why?"

"What exactly do you want to know?" asked Snape, looking very annoyed.

"Oh, I don't know." Harry was feeling lost. "I want to know everything. Why do you want me to practice Occlumency, for example?"

"Don't be concerned with what I want. I am not important."

 _That_ surprised Harry. He stood up, turned to face Snape and stared at him, puzzled. "You're trying to mess with my mind, aren't you? Do you feel powerful when you do this? Is this your kink? Abusing helpless people?"

"No, Potter. This is not my _kink_. But if you want to play this game..."

Harry felt his face flush. Snape stood up and searched his eyes. Harry felt him probing his mind. "Stop it! How can I block you if I don't have a wand?"

"Stupid boy. You don't need a wand to block your mind. Or you could just close your eyes."

A new wave of rage took over Harry and, averting his eyes from Snape's, he stood up and pounced on him, trying to punch him. Snape gripped both his arms and conjured a rope to bind them.

"Do we have to go through this again?" Snape asked, the rope slithering around Harry's body, binding him.

"Go away," Harry shouted as Snape set him on the bed. "Leave me alone!"

Snape complied and left the bedroom. However, as soon as he found himself alone, Harry felt empty and defeated.

~*~

Someone was touching his arms, and everything was dark. Harry tried to kick his aggressor.

Oh, damn. Reality hit him like a hard blow to the gut. "Snape. What are you doing here?"

Snape looked embarrassed. How strange. Harry had never seen him embarrassed.

"You fell asleep all tied-up, with your glasses and the lights on."

"Oh. And you came to unbind me, cover me up and kiss me goodnight?" As soon as the words had left his mouth, Harry felt blood rushing to his face. Why the hell had he said that? Snape's reaction was still weirder. The black eyes focused on Harry's mouth, and Snape looked speechless for a moment. As if... As if he really wanted to kiss him. Then Snape seemed to wake up from his trance, and his face became slightly tinged with colour. Harry felt ridiculous, awkward, and didn't know why. "Let go of me. You disgust me," he snarled, surprised by his own reaction.

Snape released him immediately, hate sparking from his eyes. "As you wish, Mr Potter. By the way, you stink. We are in a tropical climate; you need to bath every day."

In less than a second, Snape had left and closed the door, leaving Harry drenched in a jumble of feelings he could not understand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The next day, Harry had an idea. He knew that Snape had wanted to kiss him the previous night. It seemed a neat plan and the only way to get out of there alive: he was going to seduce Severus Snape.

In the evening, Harry took a bath, had dinner and knocked loudly on his own door. Snape came immediately and was greeted by his former student, who was waiting for him wearing a half-open dressing gown and nothing beneath it.

Harry reached out and tried to embrace him, but Snape pulled away, bewildered. "What... What are you up to, Potter?"

"Me? Nothing. I just thought that we could, you know..."

Snape narrowed his eyes at him. "No, I don't know."

"You... Yesterday, you wanted to kiss me. I know."

Snape crossed his arms in front of his body in a defensive posture. Harry came nearer, letting his dressing gown slide down his shoulders just a little.

Snape uncrossed his arms and pulled Harry's dressing gown up, covering him again. Then he pulled it closed and held Harry at distance. "Don't... Don't do that again."

Snape stared at him for a long moment, then turned his back on him and left.

Harry felt like dying. He had been rejected by Snape. Could there be anything more humiliating than that? Having offered himself to Snape and been rejected?

And Snape... Snape hadn't even mocked him. Oh, Merlin, how embarrassing.

The next morning, Harry woke up feeling something sticky in his nightshirt. He remembered his dream. Bloody hell; he had wanked thinking of Snape.

Harry felt nauseated just thinking about it. He took off his nightshirt, threw it on the floor, doubled over and vomited.

Snape arrived. This time he didn't even ask anything. He approached, cast a cleaning spell, knelt beside the bed and began to touch several points on Harry's body with his wand while chanting a spell.

Harry curled up in a ball — he was naked, ashamed and dizzy. But Snape's spell worked well and Harry relaxed. Snape covered him with a blanket and made him drink a potion.

A few hours later, Snape entered, bringing a bowl of soup with him.

"What's this?" Harry asked.

"It's _canja_. A chicken and rice soup, flavoured with tomato, garlic, onion and carrots. It will do you good. You need to feed yourself."

"Okay, mum."

Snape flashed a crooked smile, set the bowl on the bedside table and helped Harry to sit up. "Are you feeling dizzy?"

"A little."

Snape summoned the armchair to sit beside the bed and kept watching Harry as he ate his _canja_. Harry didn't want to eat, but the _canja_ tasted really good. When he finished it, Snape stood up and took the bowl.

"Take a rest, then have a bath and dress yourself. We're going to take a walk outside."

~*~

A walk! It would be his chance to escape. Harry couldn't stay there any longer; he was getting weak and having weird ideas involving Snape. It was now or never.

However, he shouldn't forget that Snape was a superb Legilimens. He would have to avoid Snape's eyes and, if he couldn't do that, he would have to try and shut his mind.

Harry knew it was nearly impossible, but he had to try.

~*~

Snape came and fetched him. He gestured to Harry to precede him into the hall, then downstairs to a dark sitting room and finally through a heavy wooden door.

Outside, the sun was still high in the sky and a light breeze stirred the leaves of the trees. If he hadn't been busy making other plans, Harry was sure he would be happy just to be there, enjoying the beautiful landscape. But he wasn't there to have fun. He needed to focus on his flight.

The bumpy terrain had some steep ups and downs. From a distance, the house looked pleasant and impressive, with its balcony windows adorned with bougainvillea and its pitched roof.

Harry looked around and found that they were near a wood. There, the trees were closer together. If he could distract Snape and run into the wood, maybe he would have a chance.

"Are you feeling better?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Harry answered. Why the hell was Snape concerned about his wellbeing? Probably he was doing that just to annoy him, to distract him from any plans that he might be concealing.

Something in his tone must have alerted Snape, for Snape held Harry by the shoulders and turned him to face him. Harry focused his thoughts on the trees, the birds and the wind. Snape peered at him suspiciously, but finally let him go and continued to walk.

Phew. That had been a close one.

"What tree is that? That one, with the purple flowers?" Harry asked.

"It's a purple ipê. Can you see that other tree, on the left, with the yellow flowers?"

"Yes, I can."

"It's a yellow ipê. This one is a jacaranda." Snape pointed to a canopied tree beside them. "It produces lilac flowers and will bloom in about a month. The furniture of the house is made from its wood."

"Oh, right."

A flock of wild parakeets gathered in a nearby tree, shrieking and squawking. Snape turned towards them, and Harry realised that was the perfect moment. He threw himself against Snape, pushed him down to the ground and ran towards the wood.

"Potter!"

Harry ran like he was on fire, and managed to get into the wood. But the shrubs became denser and denser the further he penetrated into the wood, and Harry had to dodge, elbow and kick his way through them. The branches scratched him and tangled with his robes, tearing them. Struggling frantically to untangle himself from the branches, Harry kept going, paying no attention to _where_ he was going. Suddenly, the ground gave way under his feet, and he fell into a deep and dark pit.

Harry cried with all his might and landed about fifteen feet below the ground. The circle of light above him seemed unreachable, because he had probably broken his right leg. The pain in his leg was almost unbearable, and the slashes and scratches across his body didn't help either.

Several long minutes went by. The cold water in the bottom of the pit reached his knees, making him shiver. He was in hell.

Panic was overcoming him when the circle of light above him darkened and a grave voice echoed inside the pit.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

Harry's body slowly levitated out of the pit. When he arrived on level ground, he had to close his eyes against the light. Snape held him and felt his body for injuries. Harry moaned relentlessly, because he was bruised and wounded all over, but when Snape touched his leg, he howled. Snape laid him on the grass and cast a spell to mend his bones.

"Stupid boy," Snape snarled. "Even if you had managed to escape from me, you wouldn't have been able to pass through the wards surrounding the estate."

Then Snape cast the levitation spell on Harry again and wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him near his body. Snape took him into the house, climbed the staircase, crossed the hall and Harry's bedroom, and only stopped in the bathroom. There, he put Harry into the bath, took off Harry's glasses, shoes and clothes, and turned both the hot and cold water taps on. Snape left him alone for a few minutes and came back with two phials, pouring their contents into the water. "Can you bathe yourself or do you want my assistance?"

Harry was feeling weak and vulnerable, but his Gryffindor pride was still alive. "I can do it. You can go."

Snape handed him a soft sponge and left.

Harry felt like crying. Everything had gone wrong, again. He spent a long time bathing, mortified at the prospect of facing Snape again.

But Snape came back, of course, and unstopped the bath, letting the water drain out. Then he filled a bucket with cold water and poured it over Harry's head.

"Aaaaaah!" Harry shouted in shock.

"Enough, Potter. Get out."

Harry stood up, but almost slipped on the wet surface. Snape held him and helped him out of the bath. Harry reached out for a towel and started to dry himself, but Snape cast a drying spell on him.

"Go to bed and lie down."

Harry obeyed resignedly. If Snape wanted to do him harm, Harry wouldn't have the strength to resist. Anyway, that was a ludicrous idea; if Snape wanted to hex him or kill him, he wouldn't have mended his leg, or taken him to the bathroom, or helped him into and out of the bath. Snape was a git and yet he seemed to care about him. Harry was lost and confused. It was easier to think that Snape was his enemy and wanted to kill him.

The fact was that Harry was naked in front of Snape, who had sat on the bed sideways and was carefully scanning his body.

Snape produced a phial from one of his pockets, removed the stopper, put it on the bedside table, and rubbed a small amount of the whitish balm over his hands. "Turn face down."

Harry complied and then shivered from the cold touch of the balm on his skin. "Oooooh! It's cold!"

Snape didn't say a word. The deft hands began to spread the balm, gently but vigorously massaging every inch of Harry's body. Harry closed his eyes, surrendering to those miraculous hands and biting his lip not to moan in pleasure.

"You managed to close your mind when we were out there, before you ran away, didn't you?" Snape asked in a low and velvety voice.

"Yeah... I reckon I did."

"Very good. Now you know that you can do it."

Harry felt a surge of happiness and pride, and Snape's hands were doing wonders on his body; Harry was melting beneath them. When Snape started to massage his buttocks, Harry felt his cock hardening, and his heart raced. Terror assaulted him at the sound of Snape's imperative voice.

"Now turn face upwards, Potter."

"Er."

"What is it?"

"It's just that... well, I'm okay. You can stop."

"Don't be foolish. You have injuries all over your body. This balm will heal them. Turn around."

Blood rushing to his face, Harry turned around and averted his eyes so as not to see Snape's expression. He didn't want to see Snape's trademark sneer.

After a brief pause in which Harry had to force himself not to run away in shame, Snape's hands touched his chest and started to massage it with the same firm and gentle touch, and Harry couldn't hold back a moan. Snape went on, stroking every piece of his flesh, including his toes. The only part Snape hadn't touched was precisely that area where all Harry's blood seemed concentrated now.

When Snape seemed ready to call it quits, Harry turned his face to Snape's and almost fainted.

Snape was staring at him with such intensity that it was like fire spreading through Harry's body. Then the black eyes travelled down Harry's chest and stomach and stopped on his cock. Snape held its base with one of his hands, while the other one covered Harry's balls, massaging them in circular movements and squeezing them delicately.

Snape lowered his head and took the tip of Harry's cock into his mouth, and Harry placed both hands on Snape's head to keep it right there.

A skilful tongue circled the tip of his cock in quick movements. Soft lips closed firmly around it and started to go down slowly. Harry let out a needy moan. Oh, that wet warmth enveloping him, that wicked tongue licking him all over, that firm hand holding his root and the other covering his balls... Snape didn't need to go up and down his length more than three times for Harry to come violently into his mouth.

Harry let go of Snape's head, and Snape lay on top of him, head on his chest, pumping his own cock and rubbing it against Harry's thighs.

It was surreal. Part of Harry wanted to hug Snape and give him the same pleasure he had given him; still another part was saying that that would be completely wrong, and that he needed to escape. Snape thrust towards him harder and faster. It was an intoxicating sensation, but Harry's cunning, Slytherin side was stronger and won: precisely when Snape was coming and saying Harry's name, Harry slipped his hand inside Snape's robes and stole his wand.

"Ah... Harry... Oh... Oh, damn!"

The pleasure displayed on Snape's face turned immediately into a hurt, betrayed and angry look.

 **End of the First Part**


	4. Part 2 - Snapenelopiad - Chapter 4

**Part II - A Snapenolopiad**

 **Chapter 4**

My God, I am pathetic. Potter caught me with my pants down, literally. I can't even claim I didn't know he was dangerous and treacherous: since he arrived here he has done nothing but try and deceive me; he hasn't thought of anything but escape.

Now he threatens me with my own wand. He is still naked and my cock is exposed, my hand covered in semen.

I am not only pathetic, but also absolutely ludicrous. I have invented an _Extended Protego_ to shield me against non-magical attacks — thanks to it, I was shielded when Potter attacked me with a drawer. But now the little fiend made me lose my concentration. _Kill me, Potter. I deserve it._

The boy's hand trembles and my brain seems to start to work again. "You might want to kill me, but I wouldn't do it, if I were you. I have knowledge of things that are of great importance to you, and that no one else can tell you."

"Then spit it out," he says.

I would laugh hysterically, if it were not for my remarkable self-control. "This is not how this game is played."

"Then tell me how it is."

"Very well. You have my wand, so you are the one in control. But let me have, at least, a modicum of dignity. May I go to your bathroom?"

He sighs. "Yeah. But don't try and do anything funny."

Like a plain Muggle, I cleanse the residues of my pitiful solitary pleasure with toilet paper and water. Then I wash my face, avoiding looking at myself in the mirror. I have never hated myself so much in my life.

(This is an overstatement, of course. I should be used to the feeling by now.)

May Salazar help me, I have to be cunning. My life is at stake. Potter has my wand; he calls the shots. I must save my life, but also his. Damn brat.

A clap of thunder rumbles outside in the distance; the weather here changes fast, and it seems a storm is coming.

I come back to Potter's bedroom; Potter is already dressed and sitting on his bed.

"Wouldn't you like to have dinner?" I suggest.

"Only if I can have dinner in the dining room. I'll go after you, and you'll prepare everything."

Hmph. This is a first; now I am Harry Potter's house-elf. "As you wish, Master," I reply, dropping into an exaggerated bow and walking towards the staircase.

~*~

We are at the dining room table. The light of the candles flickers; outside, the sound of thunder, the drumming of the rain on the leaves and the fury of lightning compose the scenery. The chicken curry was acceptable, and the wine — a Baron De Lantier Cabernet Sauvignon from 1991, made in Garibaldi, a city in the south of Brazil — superb. Potter looks at me impatiently. I serve the dessert, a very seductive peach pie.

"Snape. Tell me the bloody story."

"Very well, Mr Potter. I know the location of all the four Horcruxes you are looking for."

My statement has the desired effect: he widens his eyes.

"Did Voldemort tell you _that_?"

I don't even try and conceal my proud smile. "He did."

"I don't believe you. You're making this up so that I don't kill you."

Smart boy. He should have been put in Slytherin. "It was not because of my beautiful eyes that he told me, but because he needed my help. He found out his Horcruxes were under threat."

First he snorts, and then looks at me, bewildered. "How did he find this out?"

"Dumbledore wasn't exactly secretive about the ring, was he? He paraded it everywhere."

"Why did Dumbledore do that?"

"Perhaps because he wanted to provoke what happened. Perhaps he wanted us to be here and now."

"Well, where are the Horcruxes?"

"So impatient." I smirk. "First we have to make a deal."

"I don't want to make a deal with you. Tell me your story or I'll..." He points his wand at me.

" _Avada Kedavra_ ," I say, in a poisonous tone, and he shudders.

"Yeah, but I have your wand," he replies, apparently reassuring himself.

"You have my wand, but I have your answers. I offer you a deal: I tell you the location of one of the Horcruxes tonight, and tomorrow you go and destroy it. Tomorrow night I shall tell you the location of another Horcrux, and the next day you shall get rid of it. And so on, until the fourth and last Horcrux is destroyed."

"Very smart, Snape. You're buying four more days of life. But who's going to guarantee me that you won't call your Dark Lord when I go out in search of the first Horcrux tomorrow?"

"We can make a Reciprocal Unbreakable Vow, without a Bonder. The principle at work is similar, but there is no third party arbiter: you will have to trust me, and I shall have to trust you. You vow to come back here every night until all the Horcruxes have been destroyed, and not to reveal to anyone where you are living; I vow to tell you the whole truth about the Horcruxes and not to warn the Dark Lord you are destroying them."

"The one who breaks the Vow will die?"

"Precisely."

He shivers visibly. I would shiver too, if I had any good sense left. There is so much at stake.

"I shall fetch your wand, so that we can exchange wands and make the Vow. We both shall kneel and join our right hands. We shall hold our wands with our left hands and touch our clasped hands with them. I can also vow to give you back my wand after I reveal the location of the final Horcrux. Then you can kill me, if you so desire," I add.

"I agree," he says.

A perfect Gryffindor, as I thought.

~*~

We join our hands and make the Reciprocal Unbreakable Vow. It's a solemn moment. Who would have said that one day I would kneel before Harry Potter? Naturally, he is on his knees too, so my pride is intact. Besides, I am doing this for a good cause, and I have drunk too much wine. The latter fact probably explains why I am now looking at him intently and inviting him to go to bed with me. "I have a long story to tell you, and we will be more comfortable on the spacious bed in my double bedroom."

"All right," he says. I would be very surprised, if I didn't know he also had drunk too much wine.

He sits beside me on my bed while I pull a blanket over my body. He takes off his shoes and leans his head on the headboard. He refuses, however, to let go of his wand, ignoring my protests that I have already put mine on the bedside table, that we have made a Reciprocal Unbreakable Vow and that he should feel safe. I begin to tell him the marvellous and very short story of the Hufflepuff cup the Dark Lord stole from Hepzibah Smith. To sum up, the precious cup was entrusted to the care of Bellatrix Lestrange, who hid it in a crypt beneath the graveyard in Little Hangleton where the Dark Lord had been revived. An annoying detail is that the crypt is zealously protected by a Manticore.

He stares at me, bewildered. "And you expect me to go there and kill a Manticore tomorrow?"

"Aren't you 'The Chosen One'?" He looks so dismayed that I take pity on him. I blame the wine for the sudden impulse to cheer him up. "Ask for Hagrid's help. He adores monsters and knows how to tame them. However... there is another detail."

"Another one?"

"You didn't expect the Dark Lord not to protect his Horcruxes, did you? The detail is that Bellatrix cast a protection curse on the cup so that no one would be able to touch it. But, curiously, due to the inner magic of the object, this curse doesn't affect the descendants of Helga Hufflepuff."

"How do you know that?"

"This is a property shared by all the founders' relics," I explain. "The descendants of the founders are immune to curses cast upon their relics."

"Oh... And what do you suggest I do? I don't know any descendant of Hufflepuff."

"Maybe your _friend_ Zacharias Smith can help you. I heard he is descended from Helga and Hepzibah."

"He's not my friend! He hates me!"

"Which proves he has a good taste."

So much for my efforts to cheer him up. Potter glares daggers at me. I pretend not to notice.

"How can I find Zacharias?" he asks

"Do you have Apparition Licence?"

"Yeah. I took it as soon as I became of age."

"I suppose Arthur Weasley can help you to find Smith; he has many contacts in the Ministry. But don't forget your Vow: you cannot tell anyone where you are."

"All right. But I don't know how to remove the Horcrux spell!" he protests.

"You had no great difficulty destroying the Diary."

"Oh, yeah, I just had to defeat a Basilisk. Piece of cake."

"Exactly." I stare at him; he doesn't seem very pleased. "I doubt you would want to be in my place. What do you think it will happen if the Dark Lord comes to see you and doesn't find you?"

He winces. "Can he come here? Did he order you to watch me? Is he paying for the house, the food and everything?"

"Yes, yes and yes."

I am not exactly lying. It's true that he can come here, but it's also true that I know he won't. The Dark Lord is afraid of meeting The Chosen One now that he knows his Horcruxes are in danger.

Potter shakes his head. "Either you're up to something or you're completely nuts."

Both, I suppose. I know I am taking great risks. But he doesn't need to know that. "I won't be talked to in such an insulting way."

"Right," he snarls. "But why are we here? By the way, where are we?"

"We are in Brazil. Why shouldn't we be? It's far from Britain, no one disturbs us and the weather is pleasant, at least in the winter. There are too many crane flies, I admit, but I cast an invisible insect repellent web over the house, so they don't bother us."

"Brazil. It's where the villains go to hide, in the films."

"Really? They are smart, those villains." I yawn. "Now put down your wand, lie down and get some sleep."

I'm pleased to see him obeying and lying down beside me. I feel his warmth, smell his scent of honey, earth and cinnamon soap, and remember his taste when he came into my mouth. I long to touch and _devour_ him, but I have already played the fool today, and I cannot afford to run the same risk again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I wake up and feel disappointed to see he is not beside me. I wonder if he could have fled. It would be very foolish of him, after making a Reciprocal Unbreakable Vow.

I find him in the kitchen, where the table is set with breakfast for two. My morning crankiness lessens.

"I hope you like bacon and eggs," he says.

I mumble something in reply, sit down and start to fill my plate. "Don't eat this smoked pork pate if you are going to eat eggs and bacon. It's too much animal fat at once."

"Oh, but I love that pate!"

I grumble that he has the bad habit of loving unhealthy things. He becomes angry, of course, and I feel better.

His mood changes suddenly, and he flashes me a breathtaking smile. "No problem. I like the pistachio paste too."

It's very like him, deciding to be happy just to annoy me.

After breakfast, I explain him where we are, so that he can Apparate back. "Here is the 'Sítio da Nhandu', by the coast of São Paulo state, in Brazil."

"Sítio... ?"

"A country estate, or perhaps a villa. There isn't an exact equivalent in English," I say.

"Nhandu?"

"It means 'spider' in Tupi, the language of the native indians. The Villa of the Spider."

"Ah. Spider. I should have known. Er..." Potter mumbles, articulate as always. "Isn't it dangerous to Apparate over such a long distance?"

"Not dangerous, but unreliable. That's why I'm giving you this world map." I hand him the parchment. "Just in case you get lost."

"Wow. Is it like a Marauders' World Map?"

The mere sound of this name annoys me to no end. "No. This map only shows you in which country you are."

He leaves and I feel a chill down to my bones. I would have gone with him, if I had not made an Unbreakable Vow with the Dark Lord — with Bellatrix as our Bonder — stating I would be here until further orders, watching Potter and preventing him from escaping.

(Unbreakable Vows are in fashion nowadays, and no, I didn't let Potter escape: he promised to come back. I hope he keeps his promise; otherwise, I shall be in trouble.)

The house is absurdly empty without him. As I have nothing to do, I decide to go out, gather some herbs and create new potions. I have brought a small cauldron with me.

The plants are still wet from last night's storm. The flora of this region, the Atlantic Forest, is incredibly varied. It's a shame the Muggles are destroying it fast and brutally. Penetrating into the wood, I cut a few leaves of espinheira-santa, Brazilian ginseng, carqueja and chapéu-de-couro.

Suddenly I stumble into a tall tree. Dozens of biting ants swarm onto me. I pull out my wand and cast an _Avada Kedavra_ on all of them. It's a Trumpet tree, or _Cecropia pachystachya_. The Brazilians call it 'pau-de-formiga', which means 'ant's wood'. I find a small one and cut a piece of its hollow trunk. I have plans for it.

The bloody itch is killing me. Naturally, I have an antidote for insect stings and bites in my Potions kit. I shall have to go back inside.

~*~

It's ten o'clock in the evening and he hasn't arrived yet. I shouldn't have sent him to kill a Manticore, but what else could I have done? I was between the Scylla and Charybdis.

My only company is a glass of Firewhisky. The bottle is already half-empty, and I have just this one.

I hear a crack. I look around and see him Apparating, covered in mud from head to toe. I run towards him, and have to force myself not to embrace him. My hands are trembling. I blame the Firewhisky.

"I did it! I destroyed the Horcrux," he exclaims.

 _Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day!_ (1) I hold his arms and scan his body. "Go and have a bath. I shall heat dinner for us."

~*~

Tonight we are having _Camarão na Moranga_ — winter squash with shrimp. It's a typical dish of the region. During dinner, Potter tells me his adventure.

Arthur Weasley had easily located the Smiths through the Floo Network; after many objections and remonstrances, Zacharias Smith had agreed to help Potter. Weasley and Potter had Apparated to Hogwarts' gates, whence Weasley had sent a Patronus to call Hagrid. The half-giant had happily agreed to help. Potter had Side-Along-Apparated Hagrid to Little Hangleton, where they had met Smith.

The peculiar trio had entered the old church and found the entrance to the crypt. Hagrid and the Manticore had quickly become close friends and entertained long conversations while Potter and Smith spent hours and hours looking for the cup.

They had finally found the relic buried in the floor of the crypt. Smith had been a true hero and held the cup for Potter. There had been a moment of uneasiness when they had had to face the disturbing truth that none of them knew how to remove the Horcrux spell. But then Hagrid had asked the Manticore what they should do, and in reply the fantastic beast had filled the cup with the poison of its tail. As soon as the poison had touched the cup, the latter had begun to emit a green light, and dissolved into the air.

I take a deep breath, relieved. The prophecy must be correct. This boy _has_ to be the Chosen One.

~*~

We are both sitting on bed, beneath the blankets, heads leaning on the headboard.

I start to tell him about the second Horcrux: Rowena Ravenclaw's wand. "Rowena's wand is floating in the air, above Hogwarts."

"Oh, I'm a good Seeker. This will be an easy one."

"Self-confident, are we? You don't even know at what height the wand is! Furthermore, the Dark Lord cast an invisibility charm on it."

"What? The wand's invisible?"

"Yes. I rejoice in your comprehension of the subtleties of my language."

"Er... But if the wand's invisible, how can I find it?"

"Why don't you call your friends and ask their help? If you go alone, your mission will be very difficult, indeed."

He sighs, puts his glasses on the bedside table and slips beneath the blankets. I turn off the lights and lie down too.

I stay awake for a long time, wondering if he is awake or not, and what would be his reaction if I came nearer and touched him.

He doesn't say or do anything, though, and I brace myself for another night of unresolved sexual tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Lewis Carroll, "Jabberwocky" (from _Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There_ , 1872)


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It's only six o'clock in the evening, but he is back, with an ear-to-ear smile.

I stop what I am doing — carving a flute from the Trumpet tree's hollow trunk — and we go and sit in the reclining chairs of the back porch. It rained all day, but now the sky is clear and we can see the sun setting on the horizon. The frogs and toads enjoy themselves in the pools of water, and a cricket starts to sing.

Potter is drinking mango juice and I'm having a cup of Earl Grey. He sums up the day's events by proclaiming that this time it was Luna who saved the day.

Potter, Granger, Ronald and Ginevra Weasley, Longbottom and Lovegood had been flying for hours around Hogwarts in search for Rowena's wand when the peculiar Ravenclaw girl had come up with the idea of using Thestrals, "because Hagrid says they're very good at finding places their riders are looking for". No one had paid attention to her, but she had gone and found a Thestral. Flying on its back, she had ended up finding the wand. While they were discussing how to destroy it, Luna cast bluebell flames on the wand and it burned to ashes.

I gaze at Potter, in awe. I wouldn't believe this tale, if I didn't know his good luck. Then I invite him to have dinner and go to bed earlier, because this time my story will be longer.

~*~

"If rumours are true, you went with Dumbledore to the cave where the Dark Lord had hidden Slytherin's locket," I say.

Suddenly, he looks sad. The weather is pleasant and he is under the blankets, but he shivers. "Yes. It was useless, and if we hadn't gone there, the Death Eaters wouldn't have invaded Hogwarts and..." he breaks up and looks at me in terror.

I don't have to read his mind to know what he is thinking. He loathes me. He considers me a murderer, and a coward, and it scares him to realise how close he let me get to him.

"You don't know the whole story, Harry." The name escapes from my lips, and he looks at me, surprised. "Dumbledore's days were already numbered due to the injury sustained from the contact with the cursed Slytherin ring, before the beginning of your sixth term."

"He told me you had stopped the curse."

"Yes, but... he was already dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes. I stoppered his death. Do you remember what I told you in your first Potions class, about a potion to stopper death?"

He widens his eyes, astonished. "You don't want me to believe you can do that, do you?"

"Under certain circumstances, it is possible. Albus was a very powerful wizard, and he had strength to survive in this zombie state for almost a year."

He shakes his head in disbelief. "But... he looked alive."

"And he was, in a way. But he wouldn't have survived much longer."

"In the cave, he made me force him to drink a potion. I don't know whether that potion was poisonous or not."

"How did he react?" I ask, curious.

"He started to have visions, and asked me to stop; then he said it was all his fault, that I had to make it stop, that I shouldn't hurt the other people, that I should kill him instead. He screamed like he was on fire. I had to make him drink twelve goblets, and when he finished the last one, he rolled over into his face. I cast a _Rennervate_ , but at first it didn't seem to work. Then he begged me for water, but the water I conjured with _Aguamenti_ would vanish as soon as it touched his lips. So I plunged the goblet into the cold water of the lake..."

"The lake full of Inferi?"

"Yeah, it was horrible! I tipped the water over his face. Then an Inferius gripped my wrist and tried to pull me into the lake. I cast _Petrificus Totalus_ , _Impedimenta_ , _Incarcerous_ , and even _Sectumsempra_ , but more and more Inferi emerged from the water. Suddenly, a ring of fire appeared, and they did not dare to pass through the flames. I turned to Dumbledore and saw that he was on his feet again, and that the ring of fire was coming from his wand."

"How amazing," I say, in awe. "By drinking that potion, he drank all the sins in the world, ours and his, and after that, he still could find the strength to save you."

"What potion was that?" he asks.

"A potion I would never have been allowed to teach at Hogwarts or anywhere else in the Wizarding World. It's called Nefaserum. It concentrates all the sins and evil that magic can create."

"But the Horcrux that was there was a fake one!" he protests.

"I know. Regulus Black replaced it."

"Sirius's brother? Is he R.A.B.?"

"Yes," I reply. "Regulus Arcturus Black."

"How do you know that? How could he find the cave? And where is the locket?"

"Calm down; I can't answer all those questions at the same time," I complain. " Narcissa Malfoy told me Regulus had stolen the locket. I don't know how he found the cave; I only know he took his house-elf with him."

"Kreacher?"

"Yes, Kreacher."

"Kreacher drank that potion in his place? And he told _Narcissa Malfoy_? And she told _you_?"

"Can I continue my story?" I ask him, irked. He looks irked too, as if the name Malfoy was enough to annoy him.

"Yeah."

"Very well. So Dumbledore was alive only due to my potion, which had stoppered his death. Meanwhile, the Dark Lord had given Draco Malfoy the mission to kill the Headmaster. Of course the Dark Lord never believed Draco would be successful; his purpose was to punish the Malfoys. Inadvertently, I found myself forced to make an Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy, to keep my cover as a spy."

"I know. You swore to protect Draco."

"Not only that: I swore to fulfil his mission, in case he failed. In these circumstances, Dumbledore made me promise that, if necessary, I would fulfil the Unbreakable Vow."

"He asked you to kill him?"

"In the last instance. He insisted over and over that my position as a spy was crucial to your victory, and that I should earn the Dark Lord's trust."

He gazes at me with an intense look in his eyes. "Damn. He knew what would happen."

A shiver runs down my spine. "This journey through the cave must have debilitated him further. When I arrived at the Astronomy Tower, he was dying. We communicated through Legilimency and he asked me to kill him."

Harry sighs and lowers his eyes. I realise I am thinking of him as 'Harry' now. Perhaps because it is hard to reveal such crucial moments in my life to a person and keep a distant tone.

When he looks up at me, there is a tear glistening in each of his eyes, and he seems so helpless.

I reach out and touch his face, brushing aside an unruly lock of black hair. He holds my hand between his, taking it to his lap.

"The locket is with Narcissa," I tell him. "Regulus didn't know how to destroy it, and left it in Grimmauld Place. He was killed by order of the Dark Lord. A few days before your godfather's death, Kreacher took the locket to Narcissa; in Kreacher's view, the Malfoys are the true descendants of the Blacks."

"And Narcissa didn't give the locket back to Voldemort?"

"No. She is keeping it as a trump card, to make sure the Dark Lord won't hurt anyone in her family. However, if he finds out, all the Malfoys will die before you can say _Avada Kedavra_ , and she knows that. She knows that her family is in danger either way."

"What shall I do?"

"Unfortunately, I think you will have to negotiate with her."

"I'll never convince a Malfoy! Do you have a bottle of _Felix Felicis_?"

I can't help laughing. "That would be a dirty trick, Harry Potter. And the answer is 'no'."

Harry shakes his head. "I'll never convince a Malfoy of anything," he insists.

"I have a trump card up my sleeve too. But now I'm tired. Let's sleep, shall we?"

He nods, takes off his glasses and settles in his side of the bed. I turn off the lights and lie down. I hear his uneven breath.

"You didn't want to kill Dumbledore," he murmurs.

"That was the last thing I ever wanted to do. He was my mentor. He trusted me. Furthermore, I had a reasonably comfortable life in Hogwarts. My colleagues respected me: Minerva, Filius, Pomona..."

I feel a knot in my throat. It is painful to remember what I have lost.

I am surprised to notice that he is snuggling next to me. I wrap an arm around him, and listen to our hearts beating together.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

I wake up feeling his body pressed to mine. My cock is shamelessly hard, but Harry doesn't look embarrassed. My hands travel down his back to cup his buttocks as he rubs against me.

His face touches mine; he nibbles my earlobe, then traces a wet path to my lips. Soft, velvety lips brush against mine, and an audacious tongue slides into my mouth.

Oh, he knows how to kiss! He must have practiced extensively with his Arthurian damsel, Ginevra — may God bless her and keep her far away from us. Jealousy adds a touch of despair to the maddening mixture of feelings that fill me. I feel fragile around him. I want him, and I want him to want me. If he rejects me again, it will be the end.

My tongue plunges in the wet and sweet warmth of his mouth, and his hands roam through my body, awakening in me urgency I can't control. My heart races, and a deep moan escapes from my throat.

I lift his nightshirt and find him hard beneath it — he came to bed with no underwear, like me. I curl my fingers around his cock and hear him gasping. He lifts my nightshirt up by the hem and imitates my gesture, holding my cock in his hand. I pull him towards me and rub my cock against his.

It's good to make love to him like this; we can kiss while we touch each other. I can also search for his nipples as I am doing now, spreading soft bites around a tiny, dark nub, approaching it in slow spirals. I take it into my mouth, roll my tongue around it, grasp my teeth slightly against the rigid flesh before sucking it. He moans in pleasure and thrusts towards me, trying to speed my pace.

"Shh. Slow down. Yes, like this..."

"Oh, Severus, it's so good..."

To hear him say my name is an unexpected thrill. I run my tongue over his lower lip, asking for entrance, and he eagerly opens for me. We keep kissing and stroking, harder, faster. Finally, I feel him throbbing in my hand. He buries his face in the curve of my neck and, biting me like a vampire, he comes. The pain from the bite adds an edge to the tension that reaches a peak. I smash my cock against his once again and the world splinters into pure bliss.

Long minutes pass; he's still in my arms. I hold him against my chest and reach for my wand, that I have left on a shelf above the headboard, to cast a cleaning spell.

"Time to get up and save the world," I joke.

"Hmmm," he murmurs.

He lifts his face to me and I am powerless to resist: I kiss him again. I can't have enough of him.

"You have a mission to fulfil today. Let's have breakfast," I finally manage to say, but I don't really want to leave the bed.

~*~

We are at the kitchen's table, having tea. He tries the cassava cake and tells me he likes the corn meal cake best.

"You mean the _bolo de fubá_ ," I say, practising my Portuguese.

"Whatever. The yellow one."

"I shall buy you another one, after you leave."

"Where do you buy those things?"

"There is a road less than two miles from here. Usually I Apparate there, but sometimes I like to walk. There you can find a bakery, and also the restaurant that sends our meals." I sip my tea. "Your conversation with Narcissa will be brief, I expect. I shall be waiting you for lunch."

"But how can I convince her?" he asks, his voice full of concern.

"Easily." I take a parchment from my pocket and hand it to him. "Here is the place where I am keeping Draco. The Dark Lord decided to punish him for not having killed Dumbledore as he had ordered, and I helped Draco to escape and hide. I am his Secret Keeper. You will offer Narcissa this map in exchange for the locket. I would advise you not to be cold to her. Treat her well. She has feelings. Tell her you will do your best to protect her family. Tell her also that I shall not let any harm come to Draco."

He seems astonished. "You're risking too much."

"I am a dead man, as far as I know."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you forgotten our Vow? When everything is over, I shall give you back my wand and be at your mercy."

He frowns. "I don't understand the game you're playing." He looks contemplative. "Are you helping me just to save your own life?"

I sneer. "My life is not so valuable."

"Yeah, I know it's stupid, what I've just said. You are still following Dumbledore's orders; I know that, now. But why, when you are with me... Why are you so... so..."

He seems lost. I reach out, frame his face in my hands and kiss him as if there were no tomorrow.

"Foolish Gryffindor. I am trying to seduce you."

He looks more confused than ever, and I send him away before the temptation to kiss him again becomes unbearable.

~*~

Harry arrives from the Malfoys, victorious again, and nestles in my arms. He spends long minutes telling me how he convinced Narcissa to accept the deal he offered and give him the Horcrux, and I can't help wondering if he was born into a cauldron of _Felix Felicis_. He would not have succeeded otherwise; he doesn't have any subtlety. However, the deal was convenient for Narcissa as well and, surprisingly, she must have realised it. She has also proven her trust in me; I sincerely hope not to fail her.

The third Horcrux was destroyed by Harry himself; the ornate serpentine S, the mark of Slytherin, was a snake in disguise and told him the Parseltongue spell that would destroy the locket and free the snake from it.

Narcissa is with Draco now.

~*~

Lunch is _Dobradinha_. Harry is very enthusiastic about the dish. When I tell him it's made of tripe — the white stomach lining tripe, to be more accurate — he wrinkles his nose, but finishes his plate and has another serving.

The day is cloudy, so the sun is not very intense. I invite him for a walk. We go to the lake and watch the herons flying over us, their wings gleaming white in the shimmering sun, then swooping down in search of fish.

In the afternoon, we have tea with _bolo de fubá_ , and I brace myself to tell him a most delicate and painful secret.

I never imagined I would feel so intimidated and concerned. It wouldn't be fair to wait until the night comes. As much as I would like to spend another night with him, it wouldn't be _correct_ to take him to bed before I tell him what I must. No. I have to tell him now.

I take him to the back porch and we sit in the reclining chairs; I with my glass of Firewhisky, he with a glass of pineapple juice.

"Er. The last Horcrux is Nagini, right?" he asks.

A shiver runs down my spine. "No."

"No? Then it's some Gryffindor object. But Dumbledore told me the only Gryffindor relic..."

"Harry... When the Dark Lord went that night to Godric's Hollow, he wanted to create a Horcrux with your death."

"Yeah, Dumbledore told me so. But then my mother died to protect me, and because of that the _Avada Kedavra_ he cast on me rebounded to him."

"This is correct, but it is not the whole truth." I put my glass on a stool near the chair. My hands are shaking. I take a deep breath. "The Dark Lord cast the spell to make a Horcrux of your death first; when he cast the Killing Curse on you and your mother shielded you, the Dark Lord's soul split, because he murdered your mother, and the soul part designed for the Horcrux went into you."

He pales. "So... I am the seventh Horcrux?"

He stands up and staggers off the porch and into the grass. He doubles over and starts to throw up. I approach him from behind and hold him. But he doesn't want to be comforted; he rips away from me and walks towards the wood.

In spite of my concerns, I know that wanting to be alone is normal in a moment like this. I empty my glass and walk to the kitchen to refill it.

~*~

I wait for him on the porch, still drinking my Firewhisky. The sun has already set.

I see a green flash coming from the wood. My heart hammers wildly. I know this flash very well. I run towards it, afraid of what I might find.

Has the Dark Lord come here, or has he sent one of his minions? I don't even want to think of what might have happen to Harry. But he wouldn't want to kill Harry, would he? He tried to kill Harry even knowing he was one of his Horcruxes, but that was before he realised his Horcruxes were not as safe as he believed.

I penetrate into the wood. Only now I remember to pull out my wand.

Suddenly I see him. He is surrounded by a green halo and has a red glow in his eyes.

"Harry!"

"I cast _Avada Kedavra_ on myself," he says.

The very ground beneath my feet seems to be crumbling away. I touch his arms, his shoulders. "You can't be serious."

But I know it is true. I know he wouldn't lie about this. I look inside his eyes and try to read him. He lets me, but what I see is a chaotic, unbearable emotional discharge.

"I thought about everything while I was walking through the wood, and I realised the Killing Curse was my only chance."

I should be furious at him, but I can't. "You lived... again!" I exclaim, marvelled. The idea that I could have lost him is too disturbing. I would like to embrace him and never let him go, but he looks distant.

"I don't know if it was because of my mother's protection, or because of Love, or because I didn't put the intention or the intensity necessary in my Killing Curse; the fact is that it didn't work. I met a snake a few minutes ago, and talked to it. I'm still a Parseltongue, so I reckon Voldemort's still inside me."

The red glow is fading from his eyes.

"We know nothing about what it means to be a living Horcrux, Harry. Are you feeling well?

"Yeah."

"Let's go home. They have already brought dinner. I will heat it, if you want."

"I want to take a bath first."

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"Would you believe, if I promised?" he asks me.

I glare at him. "Of course not!"

"Don't worry. I have wonderful plans for tonight," he says, and I forget to breathe for a moment.

~*~

He comes down the staircase smelling of cinnamon soap and wearing a green nightshirt that matches his eyes. We eat the roast beef with Russian salad in silence. He drinks wine; I drink just a glass of water. I have drunk too much Firewhisky.

After the dessert, a sinful _Torta de Brigadeiro_ (a chocolate fudge cake), I show him the flute I have finished this morning, and give it to him. "I made it from a Trumpet tree. The Latin name of the plant is _Cecropia_. It comes from Kekrops, the founder of Athens and of all Greek civilization, who was half-man, half-serpent."

He holds the flute; his lips close around its mouth, his fingers gently touch its holes, and he blows on it. He doesn't know how to play, but I'm enthralled; I can't take my eyes off him.

"Is it a gift?"

I shrug. "As long as you practice _very_ far from me..."

He smiles, and then becomes serious again. "What're you up to?"

"Dumbledore used to say you would defeat the Dark Lord through love. Perhaps you should come to terms with the piece of his soul that lives inside you."

"Do you think that I'd be able to possess Voldermort's soul and destroy it with my... love?"

I wince. "Perhaps. I am not an expert on love."

He looks at me in a strange way, and my heart beats unevenly.

"But even if I destroy him with my _love_ ," he pronounces the word sardonically, "I'll still be a Horcrux and he won't die. So, what's the point in love?"

"Let's sleep on it and get back to this later, Harry."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Arriving in my bedroom, I search his eyes. "How could you do that to me?"

"The _Avada Kedavra_?" His eyes become dreamy. "I didn't know you cared so much."

I didn't either, until now. God, we are slow. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and bring his mouth to mine with a passion I don't remember ever having felt before.

His tongue is a flame, and how great a fire a little flame can kindle! I try to tame it with mine, only to be caught in its mischief. I am as coal to burning coals, and wood to fire.

Yet when our lips part, I hand him my wand. "I believe there is nothing else I can do for you. Hence, I consider our Reciprocal Unbreakable Vow fulfilled. As I have vowed, here is my wand. I am yours to kill. I am yours to do with as you please."

He smirks and strokes my wand with his fingers. Then he puts both our wands on the bedside table. "I accept your offer. Yes, I want you to be mine," he says, with a smile that blends boldness and shyness. "But I don't think there's nothing else you can do for me. I think I still can _use_ you for some time."

The idea doesn't disgust me. I knew he wasn't going to kill me, of course. I don't even know how I have managed to earn it, but I trust his Gryffindor loyalty. His dominant streak is a complete surprise, though. He pushes me, forcing me to lie down, and kneels beside me on the bed.

The hunger I see in his eyes excites me, mesmerising me with its emerald intensity. He lifts up my robes and undresses me. He stares at me with worshipping eyes, without touching me. I want his hands all over me; what a torture it is to have him so close and not to touch him. I reach out to tug on his nightshirt. He takes it off, and kneels again beside me, the proud, erect cock jutting out from a patch of dark hair. My eyes caress every inch of his lean body, and my cock swells with lust. He's so young, so beautiful.

Finally he lies beside me and his fingers touch my shoulders, slide to my chest, brush my nipples. I close my eyes, fighting the urge to grab his head and force it down. When I open them again, the little fiend is smiling and gazing at my hard cock, clearly enthralled by the effect he has on me.

I pull him towards me and kiss him again. Our tongues meet and I savour his sweet taste. My hands roam his body, stopping to play with his nipples, pinching and rolling them between my fingers. He moans.

I tear my lips from his and lick my way to his ear. I trace his shell with my tongue, dart it inside for a moment, making him shudder, then suck his earlobe into my mouth, nibbling it gently.

He rubs against me, wrapping his arms around me.

"Do you like to rub against me?" I ask him, my voice hoarse.

"Mmhmm," he answers.

I settle carefully on top of him, and match our bodies. He is only a little shorter than me. I rub my chest against his, then my stomach; I wedge a leg between his, thigh against thigh, and rub a foot on his calves. He cups my buttocks with his hands and rubs his feet on my legs.

When we have finally touched everywhere, I stop to search for his eyes, and find pure lust and want into them. He rolls me to my side and nuzzles his nose into my chest.

"I love your smell," he says. "It makes me crazy. You don't know the torture it was to sleep beside you without touching you."

"Harry... I wanted it, too. So much."

"Then why didn't you... Oh, I know. That day. I was mean. I thought I had to try and escape, you know."

"I know. I don't want to talk about it."

His lips and tongue find one of my nipples. He pulls at it with his teeth and I barely manage not to scream in pleasure. He looks at me, smiling, before repeating the process with the other nipple.

He begins to nip, suckle and lick his way down. He flicks his tongue in an out my navel, then slides a wet trail down and rubs his face against my cock.

Oh, God, I'm almost losing control. I hold his head gently and pull him up by his arm. "Come here. If you don't stop this now, it will be my ruin."

He flashes a crooked smile. "And they say it's the teens who have no control..."

Cheeky brat. I roll on top of him again, crushing him. He moans, more in pleasure than in pain. I bite his chin, his shoulders. He writhes, starting to enjoy the situation _too much_. I pull away.

"Severus?"

I open the bedside table drawer and take the phial containing the lube I prepared with mineral and vegetal oils of the region. I turn to him again, open the phial and spread the lube on his fingers, and on mine too. He looks at me expectantly. I lie down beside him. "I shall do it to you so that you learn to do the same to me." I separate his cheeks. His heart beats fast. I massage the area around his hole, approaching it in a slow spiral. Finally, I slip a finger inside it. He tenses and hisses when I go past the muscled barrier. "Relax. It will feel good soon."

He moves into a more comfortable position and a bold finger ventures between my cheeks and inside my hole. I encourage him. "Yes. That's it."

He relaxes and seems to be enjoying the experience. He goes deeper, and lets me do the same.

"Put another finger in," I ask him.

Now two delightful fingers slide inside me, and I press my lips to his, eager for more contact. We simulate fucking with our fingers while exchanging wet kisses.

He rubs against me again and I know it's now or never... With a certain regret, I remove my finger from the warmth of his body and pull his hand from me.

I pour the lube into my hands and start to spread it on his cock, pulling his foreskin up and down.

He gasps. "Sev..."

"Don't call me 'Sev'," I protest, and don't stop teasing him.

"Aaah... Please..."

I can wait no longer either. "I want you inside me now," I say, in a tone that doesn't allow for disagreement.

Not that he seems inclined to disagree!

I lie back down, spread my legs, and he kneels between them. I bend my legs up. When he finally touches my hole with his cock, I nearly scream with pleasure. He slides in and stops, as if unable to believe what is happening. I arch up towards him. He widens his eyes, and holds my hips. He starts to set up a rhythm. A slow rhythm.

Suddenly he grabs me by the waist and shoves himself hard into me. He is so far inside me that I close my eyes and see stars; I have no words to express what he is doing to me. It's his first time. It shouldn't be so good.

His sparkling green eyes dazzle me. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist. Our bodies touch when he sinks to the root. Now the angle is perfect, his rhythm is relentless, and he gasps every time I thrust towards him. He holds my cock firmly, and keeps pumping it until waves of pleasure starts coursing through my body. The world turns into a whirling kaleidoscope of colours and sensations.

When I come to myself again, he is coming inside me, saying my name. I embrace him and feel the spasms running through his body. "My serpent-boy," I whisper, smoothing his dishevelled hair.

He moves to lie half on top of me and sifts the hair on my chest with his fingers. He raises misty eyes to me, and doesn't say a word. I don't say a word either. He has taken my breath away and I was left speechless.

~*~

We have been here for almost a month. The jacarandas are already in bloom. The weather has become too hot for our robes, so now we wear Muggle T-shirts and bermudas during the day and sleep naked.

The Dark Lord has been calling me regularly once a week. He ordered me to check if his Horcruxes are safe. He is sure that I can take care of Potter and fight Manticores and Inferi at the same time. Obviously, I have to agree. Every time he calls me I reassure him about one of his Horcruxes, weaving convoluted tales.

Harry is more self-confident now. We share the house duties. I don't have to watch him; he knows that he should not leave the estate. The estate is vast, full of plants, trees and animals. It's like being imprisoned in Heaven, but it's still a prison.

I search for signs of change in him. I am afraid he might either despair for not being able to remove the Horcrux spell from himself or, on the contrary, become a dark wizard. I am relieved to see none of these developments occur. He looks calm and peaceful, and doesn't manifest any new dark powers.

Sometimes I wonder if I should teach him the Dark Arts, but then I remember Albus's certainty that Harry would win due to the power of Love.

We get along quite well in bed. He is always affectionate, and he can't possibly have any complaints about me as a lover.

Of course there is always a tension between us; neither of us is calm or submissive, but this tension has positive aspects too.

We are very different and very alike at the same time.

I told him my entire story. I told him that Dumbledore had instructed me to be as close to the Dark Lord as possible. By killing Dumbledore, I earned the Dark Lord's trust. When the Dark Lord decided to kidnap his living Horcrux and keep him safe, far away from the war, I was entrusted with Harry's care, and accepted the task eagerly, for I knew it was the only way I had to teach Harry Occlumency and tell him everything the Dark Lord had revealed to me.

I don't know why Harry is still here. I'm afraid it is a suicidal impulse: Harry wants to meet the Dark Lord, and is waiting for him. I can't send him away; if he escapes, I will die, due to the Unbreakable Vow I have with the Dark Lord.

He likes to walk alone through the wood and play the flute I made for him. One day I saw him sitting on the bank of the lake, playing the flute to the snakes that surrounded him.

Yes, the snakes like him. But that doesn't make him a Dark Lord, does it?

 **End of the Second Part**


	9. Threefold Epilogue

**Threefold Epilogue**

 **I**

Reassured by his servant Severus Snape that his other Horcruxes were all safe and well-protected, Lord Voldemort decided to visit his living Horcrux and check if he was in good condition. When he arrived in the _Sítio da Nhandu_ , Severus greeted him without enthusiasm. Lord Voldemort wasn't surprised; Severus had always been a cold man.

Lord Voldemort was informed by Severus that Potter had gone for a walk and probably could be found by the lake. He reprimanded Snape for leaving his Horcrux unleashed and unwatched, to which Snape replied, with a most unnerving smile, that his Horcrux was feeling at ease in the place and didn't intend to escape.

He cast Snape a suspicious look and went after Harry Potter.

He glimpsed the boy sitting on the bank of the lake, playing a flute. The beautiful melody surprised him. Lord Voldemort approached and sat beside Harry Potter.

At first, the young man seemed frightened by his presence, but soon he recomposed himself and greeted him in Parseltongue, "Hello, Tom."

Surprisingly, the name 'Tom' in Parseltongue didn't infuriate Lord Voldemort. "Hello, Harry," he answered, also in Parseltongue.

Harry smiled at him and a strange emotion arose within Tom.

"Do you want me to play a song for you?" Harry asked.

A tremor shook Tom's body and soul. "Yes."

Harry began to play a song even more beautiful than the first one. Tom felt as if the notes were creeping through his veins and warming him. Tom slipped into a kind of trance.

Tom looked at Harry and saw that he was beautiful and full of life. An unbearable and unexplainable sadness covered his soul. He tried to wake up from his trance, but failed. His blood was boiling, ripping his veins out of his flesh. He lowered his face. Harry stopped playing and reached out for him. As soon as Harry touched his shoulder, Tom's body burned itself to ashes.

~*~

 **II**

Watching from a distance, I see Tom Riddle vanishing in the air and Harry kneeling on the ground, in dismay. I run towards him, kneel down and take him into my arms.

"I didn't want him to die. For the first time, he seemed to be talking to me. For the first time, he was communicating with someone," Harry says, his voice tremulous.

"He's gone. I suppose he has seen himself in the piece of soul that is inside you, and he couldn't bear the feeling of being separated from you."

"Like Narcissus."

I nod at him. "My Mark disappeared too, which means he is gone forever. You absorbed the piece of his soul that was inside you. You are not a Horcrux any more."

"He's inside me, now?"

"He has always been, Harry. You just had to accept him."

We gather Tom Riddle's ashes and throw them into the waters of the lake. We return to the house in silence.

Now Harry is free. I advise him to return to Britain; he should rebuild his life. He agrees, but seems scared.

"When we go back, it will be a chaos. The _Prophet_ will want to interview us; the Ministry will want to put you in Azkaban... "

"I cannot go back, Harry; I would be imprisoned, judged and executed."

"But I won't go back without you!"

Ah... Is there balm in Gilead for me?

"So we are in a deadlock," I state, sitting in an armchair in angle to his.

"I'll go back and tell everyone you're the true hero, the responsible for Voldemort's defeat."

"It's not _exactly_ true," I acknowledge humbly.

He doesn't pay attention to my words, as always. "They will have to believe. When it's safe, you can go back too."

I can see the picture: he returns to the Weasleys', flings himself into the arms of his damsel Ginevra and I remain forgotten here, in the _Sítio da Nhandu_.

He stares at me. Ah! Legilimency. I was caught unguarded.

"Severus, if that's how you feel, I won't go. I'll stay here until they ensure us that you can go back without being imprisoned. I don't know how much money Voldemort left with you, but I have a lot of galleons in Gringotts and I can go there and take as much as we need. We can put this house under a Fidelius Charm. No one will force us out of here, and if they try, they'll have to face the Darkest Lord they've ever seen."

I am a selfish and possessive man. It wasn't easy to catch Harry Potter in my web, and I don't want to let him go. Even if, to be with me, he must become the next Dark Lord!

"The beach is not very far from here," I tell him, insanely hopeful in a future for us. "If we go down the mountain, we will arrive there in about an hour."

He smiles for the first time since Tom's death. "Great! Tomorrow we're going to the beach!"

~*~

 **III**

On their way to the beach, in the morning, Harry caught himself looking at his lover and wondering what it was in Severus that made Harry chose him instead of everything and everyone.

There was Severus, in swim shorts and T-shirt, but ugly and snarky as ever. Or was he?

"Severus, I think I might be in love with you."

Severus almost stumbled into a stone as he stopped and turned to face Harry. "Oh? And what might have inspired such feelings in you? Perhaps my distinct and interesting personality? My heroic deeds? My Roman nose? Or even... my performance as a lover?"

Harry laughed and punched him on his shoulder. "You're such a bastard. I don't know how I put up with you."

Severus looked offended. "The feelings are mutual."

"Which feelings?"

"I don't know how I put up with you either."

"Oh!"

Harry pretended to be disappointed, and Severus pulled him close for a passionate kiss. When their lips parted, Severus whispered in Harry's ear, "I might be in love with you too, but perhaps I am just dizzy. It's too hot here and my neurons are melting. I don't think it was a good idea to walk to the beach under _this_ sun. Why don't we Apparate straight to the beach?"

"Ha. You're chickening out."

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are!"

And they lived happy ever after, or so the tale is told...

 **The End**

Sequel: "Muiraquitã".


End file.
